


Daddy Day Care

by elixirsoflife



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Community: HPFT, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by Love Island, James has the Biggest Crush on Miss Lily Evans, M/M, Snape is Dramatic, are we surprised?, baby project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elixirsoflife/pseuds/elixirsoflife
Summary: For James, GCSE Health and Social is about 60% procrastination, 30% dramatics and 10% of Sirius swearing his way into detention. It most certainly does not include being handed a plastic baby and being expected to take care of it with the girl of his dreams.





	Daddy Day Care

**Author's Note:**

> i started this fic last year when the love island episode with the fake babies aired and only just got the motivation to finish it now. unfortunately, i didn't get to include most of the scenes from the episode since that's just not where my muse took me, but i'm just glad i wrote something other than the chat!fic haha
> 
> ft. sirius and snape being best friends for life, myself throwing it back to dem secondary school days and james' cruuuush

There’s a baby on the desk.

A baby. On the desk. Like. Just casually chilling next to a chipped ceramic mug emblazoned with _WORLD’S BEST TEACHER_ across the side in a bubblegum pink cliché, its glass blue eyes staring into the depths of James’ soul. It’s wearing a yellow onesie covered in ducks. While it chills on the desk. Next to a mug of cold coffee.

“Today,” declares Mrs Polanski as she slams her wrinkled hands down next to said creature, “you enter the world of parenthood.”

There’s a collective silence.

Then Sirius slowly says, “What the _fuck_ ,” and the entire class loses their minds.

 

* * *

 

At fourteen years old, James was given an A4 piece of paper coloured a tacky vibrant yellow and instructed to decide his timetable for the remaining two years of his life at Hogwarts Community High School. After much discussion with his friends, some passing talk with his parents over dinner, and some good old procrastination in the form of football, he eventually narrowed it down to four options: Triple Science, GCSE P.E, Geography and Health & Social.

The last option was mostly for a laugh. Everyone who took Health & Social swore down it was an easy A, hands on their hearts, and James figured he was punishing himself enough with twelve to fourteen hours of science every fortnight so he went for it. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Lily Evans, the owner of his pathetic little heart, shared the class with him.

That being said, no one ever told him he’d have to take care of a baby during this class.

Fake or not.

“What the fu – “

“If a swear word leaves your mouth again, Mr Black,” their teacher cuts in sharply, “you’ll be in detention faster than you finish saying it.”

Sirius wisely chooses to hold back. Instead he frowns distastefully at the plastic demon burning holes into their souls and says, “Well, alright then. But I swear this project only exists in American high school movies and really bad Wattpad novels.”

“I suppose you read a lot of them, Black,” sneers Severus Snape from across the classroom.

“And I suppose _you’re_ still a virgin, mate, but I guess that’s in the best interests of the human race.”

“ _MISTER BLACK!_ ”

He raises his hands as if to proclaim his innocence. “I’m just saying, Miss, we don’t need any more Snape spawn defiling this good earth – “

“As if the world needs any more Blacks running about either,” says Snape with a withering look. “Carry on breeding like that and you’ll be able to open up your own asylum.”

Before the classroom can erupt into a warzone – already, James has stopped rocking back in his chair with a decisive thud to announce his incoming support while Mulciber jeers at them from next to the windowsill – Mrs Polanksi shouts at the class to shut their mouths. The two factions pull back with ugly sneers that are rapidly redirected towards their teacher as she launches into an explanation of their next assessment.

“As you all know, we are learning about the different stages of growth and development throughout our lives,” she says. “The first stage is, of course, infancy which we have already covered in class. However, _covering something_ _in lesson_ is not the same as _experiencing_ it first-hand. We can’t exactly hand you real babies or… expect you to birth your own for an assessment… so we have this little thing instead.”

She picks up the chunk of plastic on her desk and lifts it into the air for the twenty something teenagers to see. It’s quite the Lion King moment.

“These dolls are fitted with recording devices – don’t worry, there are no cameras involved – and sensory equipment that picks up how efficiently they are being taken of. They sound expensive because they are, so if any return to me damaged, you’ll have to pay for the replacement. Well, you and your partner because everyone will take care of their babies in pairs for the next week.”

Immediately, the noise level in the classroom spikes as students turn to their friends excitedly. Amongst them is James, who twists his entire body 180 degrees to catch Sirius’ eye with a devilish grin; his best friend tosses one back that is just as sinister. At least, that is until Mrs Polanski cuts everyone’s chatter short with the declaration that the partners will be chosen randomly by her.

The room shudders with groans.

“But Miss!” James protests with an anguished wail. “What ever happened to _free will?_ ”

She narrows her eyes. “It died the second you and Mr Black walked into my classroom.” Which, wow, that is so uncalled for. Sure, Sirius and James regularly ended up in detention if they were within ten metres of each other, but it hurt that the staff had such little faith in them.

Instead of poetically expressing this, James sighs and shakes his head. “It’s because I’m Asian, isn’t it?”

“For the love of God, Mr Potter, you have to stop saying that every time you don’t get your way.”

“I can’t help that I was born this way,” he continues dramatically. “It’s just skin, Miss. Just genes at the end of the day.”

Glaring, Mrs Polanski orders, “Stop with the dramatic speech, will you. There’s no point in complaining – and that goes for _all_ of you because there’s no changing my mind. Whatever partners come out of the random generator on the board behind me are final and that’s that.”

More protests echo through the classroom.

All too happy to join in, James adds to the effect by draping himself all over his desk because Extra just so happens to be his middle name and he never does anything in halves. Until minutes later when his name flashes on the screen next to nine little letters that silence his complaints.

Three desks away from him, Lily Evans turns her head to send him an amused smile. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Potter,” she calls.

His heart comes to a pathetic stop.

 

* * *

 

“I crave death.” Sirius throws himself onto the shiny floor of the Sports Hall in a painful collection of thuds. He stays splayed on the ground, arms and legs at an awkward angle and cheek pressed to the dust. “I need its sweet release right now.”

“Aw come on,” says Remus as he sinks into a lunge to stretch his legs. From the floor, Sirius eyes the bare skin with more than passing, friendly interest as per usual. “Netball’s not so bad. Better than tag rugby anyway.”

James disagrees, but nods all the same. He prods Sirius in the side with the toe of his left shoe to encourage him to get up. “You’ll get through this, mate.”

“I’m not talking about netball,” hisses Sirius, refusing to move even an inch. “I’m _talking_ about that stupid fucking baby project.”

“Oh. Right.” James pauses and then shrugs. “Sorry, can’t relate. I’ve just scored myself an entire week with Lily Evans, so…”

“Oh, fuck off. You’re, like, the only person who’s looking forward to this bullshit.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Remus says consolingly, but his friend (boyfriend? Almost-boyfriend? James has lost track of where their relationship is after the second time they got drunk at a party and made out, only to conveniently ignore it the next day) isn’t having it.

“It’s easy for _you_ to say! You have bloody Dearborn as your partner and lawfully wedded husband. But me? I have _Snape_! I’m raising my first child with Severus ‘My Hand is My Best Friend’ Snape for the next week! How in the world is that ‘not that bad’?”

Remus winces.

James says thoughtfully, “You really think his hand is his best friend?”

There’s a pause. And then Sirius presses himself harder against the floor with a wail of, “Can the Lord just strike me down where I stand, I can’t _take_ this anymore!” Which seems a tad bit excessive and that’s coming from James. He’s just asking a question, after all.

Peter, who’s just arrived in time to hear Sirius’ cry, unscrews his water bottle. “Aren’t you lying down though?” he asks mildly as if Sirius’ dramatic cry is a normal occurrence.

(It is.)

“The Lord gets what I’m saying.”

“You’re so overdramatic,” says Remus, bending down to run his fingers through Sirius’ hair. Fighting the urge to retch, James shares a nauseated look with Peter. “C’mon, let’s play some netball and get your mind off the trauma.”

“What trauma? What happened?”

“Sirius is paired up with Snape for the baby project everyone’s talking about,” explains James over the boy’s cry of despair. “He hasn’t taken it well.”

“I… can see that.”

James cracks a smile. Part of him wants to boast that he’s not in any such position – far from it, in fact, since Cupid’s done him a solid and paired him up with Lily Evans, the girl he’s fancied since he was twelve years old and she was sent to McGonagall’s office for cutting off the ponytail of a boy who smacked her arse in Art. For him, he’s sure the next week will be bliss. Between taking care of the baby and writing up their report, Lily is sure to realise just how capable James is and fall madly in love with him, he’s sure. It’ll be incredibly romantic.

(He holds back, if only because he can’t even entertain the thought of raising a child with Snape himself. He tries briefly, only to join Sirius in screaming because the idea is just too terrifying.)

 

* * *

 

James wants to cry.

Like genuinely break down in sobs, grabbing his hair by the roots and curling into a corner of his bedroom, that kind of crying. With some incredible strength from fuck knows where, he manages to restrain himself, if only because to do otherwise will mean that there will be _two_ people crying in this room and he can’t handle that sort of stress.

Blindly, James reaches for his phone and dials a number only a few days fresh in his contacts list. When the person on the other side picks up, he whimpers, “It won’t stop crying,” and groans in anguish for a solid ten seconds.

The doll in his arms screams louder as if to prove his point.

James wishes he could throw it out of the window.

“Um,” says Lily Evans with a tired laugh. Damn, he’s probably woken her up. It is two in the morning, after all. “First of all, her name is Amelia.”

“I thought it was d’Artagnan?”

“ _Why_ on earth would I ever name our daughter d’Artagnan?” she asks exasperatedly.

“Um, because it’s a sick name?”

There’s a long silence on the other end; James briefly worries that she might’ve fallen asleep. And then: “Do you ever listen to what comes out of your mouth?”

“I wanna say yes to seem impressive, but I’m going to have to go with no.”

Lily laughs. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Do you appreciate it when I honestly say I am about to eat this baby for a midnight snack if it doesn’t shut up? I can’t _fall asleep._ ”

“You are not going to eat our daughter, James,” Lily says firmly and wow, isn’t that something. He won’t ever admit it to someone, but those words give him a thrill unlike anything he’s felt. For fuck’s sake, Potter, get it together and think about her legs or something. Not raising a child. Be the hormone-riddled problematic teenage boy you are. “Not until we get our A at least.”

The sound that leaves his throat sounds a bit like a dying whale. If he was less sleep-deprived, he might have even felt embarrassed by it. “Then what do I _do?”_ he cries. “It won’t stop.”

“Have you tried feeding her maybe?”

“Of course, I have, Evans, I’m not a monster. It was the first thing I did, but that didn’t work. So, then I changed its nappy, but that didn’t do anything other than contribute to the global waste crisis. So, I’ve just been rocking it for nearly half an hour and it _still_ won’t stop.” He scowls down at the plastic in his arms. “Pipe _down¸_ d’Artagnan.”

“Amelia,” corrects Lily in exasperation. She sighs across the miles of telephone wire that separates them. “Why don’t you try singing her to sleep? I did that last night and she settled down really quickly.”

Singing. James blanches at the thought. “I,” he says haltingly. “I’m not a very good singer.”

“If you can stand on the table in Mr Ahmad’s History class in Year Eight and sing all five minutes of _We Didn’t Start the Fire_ – with jazz hands, by the way – I think you can sing a plastic doll to sleep.”

Not for the first time, James questions why he does literally any of the shit he does. All it does is come back to bite him on the arse. Like a particularly cannibalistic ghost of his past.

“That wasn’t me you saw,” he says seriously. “That was my twin, Poot Potter. He escaped the wine cellar when Mum went down there for a 1989 Chateau Mouton Rothschild a couple of years back.”

There’s a moment of silence. And then Lily collapses into giggles on the other end of the phone, half-amused and half-exhausted. “You’re so full of shit, Potter,” she says fondly. “I don’t know how you come up with it.”

“Natural talent, I suppose.”

Hearing the tiredness leak further into her tone, James takes pity on her and wraps up the conversation with a _thank you for the help_ as the little hellion in his arms reaches previously undiscovered frequencies. It’s nice of her to pick up at this late hour and he knows she wouldn’t have complained if he’d kept her on the phone until their fake baby went back to sleep, but that’s precisely why he hangs up. If he was paired with someone like Snape, he would’ve called him at every cry he heard just to out of spite.

“Right, you little brat,” he hisses, picking up the doll to stare it right in the glassy eyes. God, it’s fucking terrifying. “Let’s see if this works.”

Tucking the thing into the crook of his neck, he strikes up his best imitation of Johnny Cash and croons softly into the air. He feels like a bit of a twat like this, cradling a plastic baby doll to his chest and singing _You Are My Sunshine_ painfully offkey to his pitch-black bedroom, but sure enough: after less than a couple of minutes of this, the doll stutters mid-cry before quieting down entirely. Just for good measure, James runs through the song one more time, hand absently rubbing circles into her back, before he carefully lays her down in her makeshift bed.

 

 

> **James**
> 
> [02:43]
> 
> Thank u
> 
> **Evans <3**
> 
> [02:45]
> 
> No problem. Now go to sleep James.

 

* * *

 

 

“Black,” sneers Snape, suddenly looming out of the darkness from under the staircase near the Art classrooms. A baby dressed in grey is strapped to his chest. He looks like he’s kidnapped it. “It’s twelve o’clock. That means it’s your turn to take care of Cadmus.”

Sirius doesn’t even bother to hide his grimace. “Pass the little runt over here then.”

“That _little runt_ will get us an A in Health and Social,” he hisses. “Or else we’ll have a problem, you and I.”

“You already have a problem, Snape,” Sirius says boredly. “The threat of someone coming to invade your hair for all its oil.”

James and Peter burst into sniggers, eliciting a smug smile from their friend. Remus rolls his eyes and taps Sirius’ elbow reprimandingly, though nothing can hide the upwards quirk of his mouth.

Snape rolls his eyes. “Very mature,” he says, his dry tone at odds with the ferocity with which he unstraps the carrier over his chest. He stomps over to shove it at Sirius, cradling Cadmus while he waits for his partner to get himself sorted. “Thank God this is just one project I have to endure you for. I pity the person who ends up with you if you even manage to wrangle one.”

“Now now,” Remus interrupts with a mild tone. Probably because he intends to be that person. “There’s no need to get personal. It’s only Health and Social, you’re not mating for life.”

Everyone takes a brief moment to shudder at the thought.

“Well, _my_ project is going just fine,” James announces triumphantly.

He doesn’t even regret rubbing it in their faces, especially because Sirius has never let him live down that one time James had to tightly hold Snape’s hand in a demonstration of the strength of bonds in solid molecules. No matter how many times he washed his hands afterwards. The memory still haunts him.

“Lily and I are perfect parents. Our child is talented beyond her years.”

“Your child is plastic,” Sirius says flatly.

James gasps. “Amelia is a _visionary._ And besides the Evans-Potter household does not reduce people to their _physical_ appearances. Being plastic doesn’t change anything. We’re not racist. We’re just two proud parents.”

“Weren’t you saying you wanted to throw her out the window the other day?” Peter frowns.

“Why on earth would I throw Evans out a window?”

“Not Lily,” he says exasperatedly. “The doll.”

Immediately, James denies the accusation, knowing full well that it is true.

“Interesting as this conversation is,” Snape interjects in a tone that quite clearly states he does not, in fact, find it remotely interesting, “I have better things to do with my day so – “

“Like what? Turn into a bat and hide from the sun?”

“ – if you idiots would take the doll and your pathetic conversation somewhere else, that’d be much appreciated.” He slashes his eyes up and down James condescendingly. “And remember Potter: this is just a project. Lily’s only concerned with getting a good mark in Health and Social. She most certainly does not care about you, nor is she interested in getting to know you outside of this assignment. Better get your hopes down before they carry your exceedingly large head away.”

A familiar irritation simmers to the surface of his skin. Before it sweeps him away, James flashes a sardonic smile. “I suppose she told you all that herself, did she? Oh wait, no. She couldn’t have. Last I heard, she left your sorry little arse after she realised how big your boner for Nigel Farage was.”

Snape’s face turns to stone.

“Maybe don’t tell me to get my hopes down when she doesn’t even look your way, yeah?” James adds.

Throwing one last dismissive look at him, he swaggers off with all the cockiness in him, knowing just how much the other boy loathes it. Behind him, Peter and Remus hurry after him and Sirius snatches the doll from Snape’s grip with one final sarky quip. As they walk away, he struggles to shove Cadmus into the carrier in a proper position.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grunts, wrestling one of the doll’s legs through. He releases it with a sigh. “I am _so_ getting a divorce.”

 

* * *

 

“What is Amelia’s future career?”

James looks over at Lily when she asks the question, his hands playing with the smooth edges of said doll’s feet. Their assignment is due to end the following Monday, so they’ve agreed to meet up this weekend to get the bulk of their worksheets out of the way in advance of the deadline. Since the sun has decided to come out to play for the day, Lily proposed coming to the park for a “family picnic”. Understandably, James couldn’t agree fast enough.

Looking at her right now – auburn hair pulled back from her face in a sleek ponytail, the sunshine kissing fresh freckles onto her skin, her legs exposed in that pretty yellow sundress of hers – he thanks the powers that be for allowing him to have this opportunity. Even if they’re just doing classwork and are on a pseudo-date for a device that’s monitoring how efficiently they can take care of it, James is glad he can be here. Lily’s nice to hang out with outside of school. His poor little heart can barely handle it.

He blinks at her, suddenly realising he’s zoned out for the past twenty seconds. “Er. Sorry?” He coughs awkwardly, brown cheeks heating up. “I didn’t catch that.”

Lily laughs, a little amused. “I asked you what you think Amelia’s future career is. It’s the next question.”

James frowns. “What a stupid question. Why would we know what our daughter is going to be? She’s six months old. She could be anything she wants. We don’t know if she’s going to be a footballer or the next Marie Curie. We just have to support her when she decides on it.”

“You sound very passionate about this,” she notes.

“Of course, I am! I think it’s very important not to control your child’s future to the point where it just destroys any optimism they have for it. You can guide them, but you can’t just decide what they’re going to be just because that’s what _you_ want for them. People value different things and have different aspirations.”

Lily cocks her head to the side. “What are _yours_ then? Your aspirations and values?”

“Hell if I know.” He shrugs. When she laughs, he admits, “I did consider law enforcement at one point. But like. The MI6 or something, not the police. But then I realised I’m shit at keeping things hidden so I’d probably get myself killed or something.”

“Oh God. We can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t,” he says solemnly. “The world would weep. What about you? Do you still want to be a vet?”

That earns him a surprised look. “How do you know I want to be a vet?” Lily asks curiously.

Shit. Was that creepy? James tries to think back to where he picked up this information, but he comes up emptyhanded. It’s just another piece of information about his crush that he learnt and assimilated somewhere along the way. That’s creepy, right?

“I pay attention,” he says, hoping his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

Green eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Lily appraises him for a long moment. He wonders what she sees. Whether she just sees another one of her classmates lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree (albeit one with a plastic baby on his chest). Or whether she sees something else there, something more than the jokester that so often disrupts their lessons. Something worth noticing.

“You’re a hell of a guy, James Potter,” she informs him at last.

He’s not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing. Judging from the small smile on her lips, however, he’s inclined to say it’s the former.

For the next hour or so, they crawl their way through the set of questions Polanski has set them. The sun beats overhead, the children shriek in the sandpit and James’s hands mindlessly stroke circles on Amelia’s back almost as if she really is their baby who brought them together. When they’re done, Lily stands up and brushes the grass stalks off her pretty dress.

“Come on,” she says, holding out a hand for him to take. “Let’s grab a bite to eat as a reward for all of our hard work.”

 

* * *

  

 

> **Evans <3**
> 
> [18:03]
> 
> You’re right, Mama’s Hut does great food
> 
> Thanks for paying btw
> 
> But I’m paying next time ;)
> 
>  
> 
> **James**
> 
> [18:04]
> 
> I look forward to it <3

 

* * *

 

Dramatic as she is, Mrs Polanski waits until everyone’s settled down before she lets the stack of booklets in her hands fall to the desk. They hit the surface with a distinctive thud. Like a clap of thunder. Or something just as foreboding because whenever Polanski makes announcements in Health and Social, it turns out to mean something vaguely uncomfortable for her class.

“As I’m sure you all remember,” she begins dramatically.

From the back of the classroom, Sirius lets out a very audible groan. “Here we fucking go again,” he mutters.

Sensitive as ever to any interruption by him, Mrs Polanski immediately cuts off with a baleful glare. “Mr Black,” she says, throwing her hands into the air to emphasise just how unamused she is. “If I hear one more word leave your mouth during this class, I will send you out of the room.”

“Well, that’s just discrimination,” he says petulantly.

“Black!”

“It’s because I’m Asian, isn’t it?” James calls out with a mournful shake of his head. “Just because Sirius’ best friend is Asian doesn’t mean you have to – “

“For the last time, James, your ethnicity affects literally nothing that happens in this classroom. Including Sirius’ foul and unacceptable language. Now if you’ll let me actually get on with the lesson, you’ll know that I have marked your assignments for the baby project and they’re all here, ready to be handed out. Severus, you can do just that.”

As Snape reluctantly leaves his seat, Sirius quietly snickers, “Sucks to be you,” because he is about as mature as a five-year-old.

Snape glares at him with beady black eyes. “Mrs Polanski,” he says in an eerily blank tone, “Sirius just swore at me.”

“What? _No, I didn’t!”_

“Sirius, get out of the classroom,” Mrs Polanski says swiftly.

“But I didn’t even say anything!”

“Yes, you did,” Mulciber retorts from where he lurks by the window like the ghastly little gremlin he is. “I heard you.”

James whips around, ready for attack. “Oh, shut up, Mulciber. Why don’t you go and learn your damn ABCs in a corner somewhere before opening your mouth?”

“James!” Mrs Polanski scolds. “For the love of God, what is wrong with you boys? You’re always at each other’s throats like cats and dogs! And you, James, I expected more from you, especially with grades like yours in this class – “

“Yeah, but Miss – wait, what? Grades? What?”

James blinks at her in confusion. They haven’t had any grades back in this class yet.

Relishing in the revelation, their teacher says, “Yes, your grades. You and Lily gained almost perfect marks on your project this term. It would’ve been higher, but it seems that some of you – “ Here, she glares directly at Sirius. “- forgot that the dolls came with a recording device. I don’t think I need to remind you that swearing is not allowed in this school nor around children.”

“Yeah, but they’re dolls,” says Sirius.

“ _I believe I told you to leave the classroom, Black._ ”

“I’m just saying,” he protests as the rest of the class descends into horrified chaos when it sinks in that Mrs Polanski probably overheard many private conversations. “There’s nothing wrong with pointing out facts.”

“Well, there _is_ something wrong with blatantly ignoring a teacher’s orders – “

As Sirius enters a heated debate with their teacher and Snape smacks down a copy of James’ assignment onto his deck, the corner branded with the letter ‘A’, James seeks out a familiar pair of eyes from three seats away. Lily’s already looking at him, freckled face glowing with warmth.

She grins and lifts her own copy high. “Not bad, eh, Potter?”

James smiles back at his girlfriend, hopelessly endeared. “Not bad at all,” he agrees.

Fuck being a hormone-riddled problematic teenage boy. He hopes they can figure out how to fare with the real thing in ten years’ time.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't get to include it, but the [race](https://youtu.be/vfW2YAuQYaM?t=49) from love island was definitely something sirius, remus and james did (peter cheering them on in the background and snapchatting the entire thing). 
> 
> also!!! i am asian (south asian specifically) so please don't think i'm making light of racism with james' comments. racism is a very real and awful thing, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't know other POC who make jokey comments like that.
> 
> let me know what you thought in the comments below!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dirigibleplums3) | [tumblr](https://elixirsoflife.tumblr)


End file.
